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“Why not?” Jordan asked slyly, her voice playful and curious.
Alex peered his head around the door frame, unease pricking across his neck like talons along his skin.
Make no mistake. There was a very real chance this boy was genetically connected to Alex. He had to be. Which, when factoring in his approximate age and raging hormones pumping through his veins, was a ticking time bomb of kerosene next to a lit match with his proximity to Jordan.
“What’s your name?” Jordan asked, closing in on him.
Back off, cougar. You touch him, you die.
“W-what?” the boy stammered.
This kid wasn’t being rude or evasive. Alex knew exactly why he couldn’t answer.The teen is stunned stupid by Jordan’s breasts.
Alex shook his head. It was surreal, seeing himself through the eyes of a disapproving parent. This kid had to be his. But how? And by whom?
Fists clenched, Alex stepped forward. “I’m going in,” he declared to Cole.
With a firm hand on Alex’s chest, Cole seethed low. “No, you’re not. I know how it looks, but you don’t know who he is.Wedon’t know who he is.”
Alex thought on it for a moment, then straightened his tie. “Fine. Well, I’m not leaving. So, when Paco’s ready to chat, I’ll be in the kitchen.” With a finger to Cole’s face, he warned, “And for the love of God, keep the Seductress from Hell away from Hormone Boy.”
Cole shrugged. “I was hoping to use him as a human shield. Exactly who’s supposed to protect who?”
With a hand to Cole’s back, Alex gave him a hearty shove and made his way to the kitchen. At least, he thought it was the way.Meh, if he was going somewhere he shouldn’t, he’d be stopped. Or shot.
Alex meandered down a hall and into a state-of-the-art chef’s kitchen. He’d only been there once before, but the kitchen, he definitely remembered.
The sleek and contemporary design exuded spare no expense modern luxury, a state-of-the-art marvel of white polished marble exquisite cabinetry and stainless steel. The countertops, polished to perfection, provided an expansive workspace, while the dark panels hid ingenious storage solutions, and promised so much more.
He assessed the room and let his hand slide along one corner. His instincts were right. A compartment opened, housing two sniper rifles, a half dozen Glocks, several smoke grenades, and…
“An Axe?”
“Crash axe,” Paco corrected, stepping into the space.
The seriousness etched in Paco’s brow was unmistakeable, the lines of worry defying the laws of Botox. It was an unsettling contrast to the warm of his bronzed, Puerto Rican skin.
It was rare to see—Paco’s tranquil features ruffled by a sea of doubt.
Alex forced a grin, tapping the cold, steel blade. “Crash axe, huh? In case you’re attacked by vampires?”
“In case we’re trapped behind a door or debris.” Paco shook his head, the trace of a smile crossing his somber lips. Every threat imaginable came with the territory—nowhisterritory.
The clench in Paco’s cheek eased. “Everyone knows you need a bigger axe than this to decapitate a vampire. Preferably, a sword.” He passed a hand over the cabinet. It closed.
It was clear Paco was walled up. Hell, he couldn’t even look Alex in the eye. Which was bullshit. Instead, Paco tossed an object his way.
Alex caught it, mid-air. “A Rubik’s cube?” It was a 5-by-5—the size he preferred. There was so much more you could do with it over the standard 3-by-3.
“Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling you’ll need this later.”
Alex pocketed it. “Thanks. I think.” Rather than chit-chatting like strangers or tip-toeing on eggshells, Alex pulled him into a strong bro hug. “Do you need this, or a swift kick in the ass? I can’t decide.”
Paco huffed out a laugh, with a double pat to Alex’s back. “Why don’t we start here and see where the conversation takes us.”
Their hug released, and Alex stepped back. “Now,” he removed his blazer and tossed it to the counter. He rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his tie. “How about you bust out two glasses of your best bourbon, and you give me the full gamut of what the fuck?”
A real smile finally cracked through Paco’s veneer. “Two glasses of Pappy’s, coming up.”
